


Afterimage

by MoonlightGanache (StardustMacaron)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Barebacking, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Psychological Trauma, Quentin Beck is a Predator, Rough Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Crush, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 17:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19728706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustMacaron/pseuds/MoonlightGanache
Summary: [HEAVY SPOILERS FOR FAR FROM HOME.]He looks so much like Tony Stark. He looks exactly like Tony Stark, and it makes Peter tremble ever so slightly.It’s not real. He knows it isn’t. His Tony would never do this to him.





	Afterimage

**Author's Note:**

> Vent Fic because oh boy did Mr Quentin Beck remind me of a certain someone from my childhood and I really needed to get this out of my system.
> 
> Please take the warnings seriously.

He looks so much like Tony Stark. He looks exactly like Tony Stark, and it makes Peter tremble ever so slightly.

It’s not real. He knows it isn’t. Quentin Beck is a horrible man, exploiting Peter’s grief and his fears this way.

But when this illusion, this fake, leans forward with those gentle eyes, full of affection, just like Peter remembers… He feels powerless.

It feels wrong, even if it were the real Tony Stark, it would still feel wrong. The imagery glitches slightly every so often, and Peter is coldly snapped back to the reality of the situation. It hurts.

Tony Stark is dead, and even if he wasn’t, her certainly wouldn’t be trying to push Peter into the dirt to make out with him after kicking the crap out of him as a reanimated tech zombie.

Peter wonders if the real Tony Stark would want to kill Quentin for this. Not just for being a power hungry villain, but specifically for using his face to assault Peter.

Peter should be fighting back, he should be pushing the man away from him, not letting his hands trail down and grip his body, not letting his lips press against his throat.

He would win, if he fought back. He knows this is an actual person, not a drone, simply because of the way his hands and mouth feel against his flesh. Quentin Beck has no powers. Peter could take him down in an instant.

But as he watches the illusion of his mentor roughly taking his clothes apart and cupping his still limp cock, he can’t find it in himself to much beyond breathing, and even that seems to be a struggle.

He wonders if it’s fear, or shock, or some deeply embedded trauma he’s repressed that prevents him from saying no or from kicking Quentin in his disgusting face and stomping his skull into the ground.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Peter feels himself becoming harder in Quentin’s hand. He tells himself it’s only because the man looks like Tony Stark, and that’s a fantasy Peter has had more than he’s proud to admit.

“Hey, kid,” Quentin’s voice coming out of Tony Stark’s body is jarring to say the least, but it’s his words that rattle Peter the most.

“Did he ever touch you like this before he died?”

Peter feels almost nauseous at the thought. The real Tony Stark, his Tony Stark… would never even dream of taking advantage of him like this.

“You’d have let him, wouldn’t you?”

Peter knows he would have, even if he’d never have forgiven Tony for it afterwards. He’d never have been able to say no, not to him, not then… and apparently, not even now.

His breathing is becoming more ragged, and he could swear he can see Quentin’s smile, even through the illusions. It must be amusing, realizing how easy it is to victimize a naive kid just by wearing the face of the man he admired.

“I bet you’ve gotten off to this before,” Quentin continues. Peter isn’t sure if he wants him to shut up or not. Every word reminds him that this isn’t Tony Stark, but he’s beginning to wonder if he’d rather be able to just pretend that it is.

He feels slicked up fingers pressing against him, pushing inside his hole and spreading him open. He winces with discomfort and feels his hands shaking, internally warring with himself to fight back and run away.

Even as he squeezes his eyes shut tight and feels Quentin’s cock pressing against him, he can’t bring himself to move a muscle. He opens his eyes, wide and trembling, and looks down at the man wearing Tony Stark’s face. The image alone is painful.

Quentin thrusts in and out of him at a brutal pace. The pain and discomfort overtakes any semblance of pleasure and Peter feels himself going limp again. The nausea wells up inside him and he wonders he still can’t push the man off.

He finally lifts a hand, and then Tony Stark makes eye contact with him, and his hand falls back to the dirt ground beneath him.

“You really are a good kid, huh,” Quentin’s voice is strained from his own impending orgasm, but it doesn’t make the words cut into him any less deeply.

“Good boy,” he breathes, pushing himself deeply inside of the limp teenager’s body, and flooding his insides.

He watches the man above him pull out, and the illusion shatters.

Quentin stands over him with a fire in his eyes, smiling fondly at the tears in Peter’s own.

“Good thing he left you for me to take, right?” There’s a laugh in his words, and Peter can taste the bile rising in his throat.

Peter closes his eyes and tries to breathe, but all he can focus on is the feeling of raw pain stinging through him, and the unfamiliar sensation of fluid leaking out of him.

At times like this, he almost wishes he could be with Tony again, regardless of the cost.


End file.
